Among the many great lies that
maintains the rule of capital is the idea that property is freedom. The rising
bourgeoisie made this claim as they partitioned the earth with fences of all
sorts – physical fences, legal fences, moral fences, social fences, military
fences… whatever they found necessary to enclose the murdered wealth of the
earth and to exclude the multitudes who were undesirable except as labor power.

Like so many lies of power, this one
manages to deceive through sleight-of-hand. The multitudes “unchained” from
their land were free to choose between starving or selling the time of their
lives to whatever master would buy them. “Free laborers” their masters called
them, since unlike chattel slaves, the masters had no need to take
responsibility for their lives. It was merely their labor power that the
masters bought. Their lives were their own, they were told, though in fact
these had been stolen away when the capitalist masters enclosed the land and
drove these “free laborers” off to search for survival. This process of
expropriation, which allowed capitalism to develop, continues at its margins
today, but another sleight-of-hand maintains the bourgeois illusion at the
center.

Property, we are told, is a thing
and we purchase it with money. Thus, according to the lie, freedom resides in
the things that we can buy and increases with their accumulation. In pursuit of
this freedom that is never quite attained, people chain themselves to
activities not of their choosing, giving up every vestige of real choice, in order
to earn the money that is supposed to buy them freedom. And as their lives are
consumed in the service of projects that have never been their own, they spend
their wages on toys and entertainment, on therapy and drugs, these anesthetics
that guarantee they won’t see through the lie.

Property, in fact, is not the thing
that is owned. It is the fences – the fences that keep us in, the fences that
keep us out, all the enclosures through which our lives are stolen from us.
Thus, property is, above all, a restriction, a limit of such magnitude that it
guarantees that no individual will be able to realize herself completely for as
long as it exists.

To fully understand this, we must
look at property as a social relationship between things and people mediated by
the state and the market. The institution of property could not exist without
the state that concentrates power into institutions of domination. Without the
laws, the arms, the cops and the courts, property would have no real basis, no
force to support it.

In fact, it could be said that the
state is itself the instituting of property. What is the state if not a network
of institutions through which control over a particular territory and its
resources is asserted and maintained by force of arms? All property is
ultimately state property since it exists only by permission and under the
protection of the state. Dependent on the levels of real power, this permission
and protection can be revoked at any time for any reason, and the property will
revert back to the state. This is not to say the state is more powerful than
capital, but rather that the two are so thoroughly entwined as to constitute a
single social order of domination and exploitation. And property is the
institution through which this order asserts its power in our daily lives,
compelling us to work and pay in order to reproduce it.

So property is actually the razor
wire, the “No Trespassing” sign, the price tag, the cop and the security
camera. The message that these all carry is the same: one cannot use or enjoy
anything without permission, and permission must be granted by the state and
paid for in money somewhere along the line.

It comes as no surprise then that
the world of property, ruled by the market and the state, is an impoverished
world where lack, not satisfaction, permeates existence. The pursuit of
individual realization, blocked at every turn by yet another fence, is replaced
by the homogenizing, atomizing competition to accumulate more things, because
in this world the “individual” is measured only in terms of the things that he
owns. And the inhuman community of the price tag strives to bury singularity
beneath identities found in shop windows.

Attacking the things owned by the rulers of this world –
smashing bank windows, burning police cars, blowing up the employment office or
breaking machinery – certainly has its worth. If nothing else, one may get a
bit of pleasure, and some actions of this sort may even hinder specific
projects of the ruling order. But ultimately we must attack the institution of
property, every physical, legal, moral or social fence. This attack begins from
the desire we each have to take back our life and determine it on our own
terms. Every moment and every space we steal back from this society of production
and consumption provides us with a weapon for expanding this struggle. But, as
one comrade wrote: “…this struggle is widespread or it is nothing. Only when
looting becomes a large-scale practice, when the gift arms itself against
exchange value, when relationships are no longer mediated by commodities and
individuals give their own value to things, only then does the destruction of
the market and of money – that s all one with the demolition of the state and
every hierarchy – become a real possibility”, and with it the destruction of
property. The individual revolt against the world of property must expand into
a social revolution that will break down every fence and open every possibility
for individual realization.